Some mornings I wonder “Why?”
Not “Why?” as in why doofus/moron/slob types choose to defile our shared environment, but “Why?” as in why I bother to get my hands slimy and dirty and gooey, and take on the persona of a disheveled bag man, jaunt after jaunt after jaunt.
What is known is that finding the cure for cancer is beyond me, I won’t lead the world toward peace or will never know who shot J.R.
But I suppose the real answer goes beyond the hypotheticals just mentioned: The trash is there and shouldn’t be. It needs to be picked up, it must be recycled, and the pathway deserves to be little neater and brighter. This is something I can do. It is within the bounds of my mentality.
Yeah, that would make me the odd man out. I am odd in a lot of ways, this one included. Being publicly on the wrong side of sanity doesn’t cause me to lose any sleep. Knowing that this time tomorrow the path will look as it did today will bring me full circle to the original question.